


Oh the Glory of Tenderness

by Ann3onymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Care, Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann3onymous/pseuds/Ann3onymous
Summary: He adjusts her, so he can wash her hair. She has grown it out the last few months, after keeping it short for most of her life. Her chestnut hair is thick and has a slight wave to it. The ends are a bit brittle, not from the lack of care, but from circumstances born of austerity - malnourishment, and then war.And deep in his heart, he promises to make it up to her. To care and protect; to love and respect her.Leia Organa taught her little boy how to weave stories with hair. Years later, Ben Solo weaves Rey's hair with promises.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	Oh the Glory of Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a post and prompt on Tumblr that I fell in love with.

Varykino is perfection. The peachy orange sunset over the mountains; the gentle lapping of the lake, and the soft breeze carrying the scent of exotic flowers over the terraces, frame this moment.

Ben is in a large marble bath overlooking the beautiful wonders around him. Yet, nothing compares to this intimate moment with his lover. He had never imagined he would be luxuriating like this with Rey in his arms. She is resting upon his chest, quietly dozing away.

At this very moment, life is complete.

He idly draws patterns over her skin. He is very much aware of this privilege. She has given herself to be vulnerable, right here, right now, and in this way, with him.

He adjusts her, so he can wash her hair. She has grown it out the last few months, after keeping it short for most of her life. Her chestnut hair is thick and has a slight wave to it. The ends are a bit brittle, not from the lack of care, but from circumstances born of austerity - malnourishment, and then war.

And deep in his heart, he promises to make it up to her. To care and protect; to love and respect her.

She moans a bit, her hand under the water feeling around for his thigh. He kisses her temple before summoning a bottle of hair cleanser from across the room. She sighs deeply as he turns her around so that she is straddling him.

“Hey,” she whispers, hazel eyes blinking the sleep away.

“I was going to wash your hair,” he kisses her nose before holding up the bottle in his hand.

“Oh -- hmm kay,” she smiles sleepily before closing her eyes again.

He angles her head to rest her chin on his shoulder, and once she is secure, he massages the cleanser on her scalp. A heady moan escaped her lips, and he chuckles. His digits comb it through her strands. It lightly foams and smells of citrus.

Through their bond, he feels her radiating warmth and vibrating with contentment.

“You’ve got a talent for this.”

“For what, exactly?”

“Making me incandescently happy,” she shifts to further slump into his body. There are no barriers between them in body and bond.

  
“You know, your hair is long enough to braid -- are your eyes closed?”

“Yeah.”

He cradles her head with his hand as he dunks them both in the water to wash off the foam. He summons another bottle from across the room -- hair oil to condition. It smells woodsy and warm.

“You know, I never learned how to braid my hair,” she looks at him sadly. “I could braid cords and rope, but even if I did grow my hair long, I wouldn’t have known how.”

“Well, it’s good that I know how.”

“I’m not surprised,” she tickles his sides, squirming between his legs. “I can’t imagine how you’d learn, though.”

His hands stills and tug gently at her ends, “my mom taught me.”

She was silent and thoughtful. Leia was a tender topic, but it was becoming easier to broach. She had no words in mind, but through the bond, he felt her envelop him. She kissed his cheek for good measure.

“You see,” he massages her scalp again, “Alderaan has a secret language. What others may simply see as ornate braids, twists, and coifs, the Alderaanian can weave a whole story.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, and one day, I’ll show you,” he promises as he kisses her lips with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to post this because I've been anxious about it for the past few weeks. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
